


Run for the Cube

by ClownBoy



Category: Batman (1966), Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman: The Animated Series, The LEGO Batman Movie (2017)
Genre: M/M, Oneshot, bottle episode but make it fanfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:20:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26725828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClownBoy/pseuds/ClownBoy
Summary: Batman wakes up inside some sort of death trap.  And not the usual over-designed kind.  As famous rapper Jean-Paul Sartre once said, "Hell is when that clown is also here."
Relationships: Batjokes - Relationship, Batman/Joker, Joker (DCU)/Bruce Wayne
Kudos: 44





	Run for the Cube

He woke up to the smell of plastic. And neck pain. Featureless, all white around him.1 He couldn't blink it away. 

All white, the light coming through the walls themselves. No fixtures, no wires. Slightly blue. LEDs? White frosted plastic. Despite the corners, it seemed all one piece. Rigid. But it couldn't be _that_ strong. 

He reached for his utility belt and was met with nothing. Punching it was, then. 

Very strong. Perhaps the center of the wall would have less support. 

It was that strong. Okay. 

"That's not going to work." 

His head whipped to the side. Speaking of pains in the neck... Couldn't blink away the cross-legged clown leaning against the wall either. 

"Believe me. I had a go at it a few minutes ago." His gloves were dotted red at the knuckles. He crossed his arms. "Unless you wanna feel macho about it and break a bone, then by all means, slugger." 

There had to be a weak spot somewhere. A spot that sounded hollow, something. 

"Why, thank you for asking. It was incredibly polite! I've been awake about ten minutes! Though they did get my watch, so I can't be completely sure." 

Every part of the wall sounded the same. 

"You havin' fun there?" 

No vibrations through the floor. Must be somewhere isolated. Or suspended somehow. 

"A lot sleeker without that belt, I think. Really reduces bulk at your hipline. Very flattering." 

"Are you ever not like this?" 

"What? Possessing a personality? I've tried to repress it. No avail." The pearl clutching swoon motion was not necessary. 

They even got the capsule in his boot, but luckily not the... And the lock pick in his glove. Okay, thank god. Cowl was still there. Usually, in his dreams, that's where it all went south. 

"You know, they took my jacket, so I understand. All I can offer is a two dollar bill and... nevermind. Ate the Reese's." 

The ceiling. No exit or entry points. Seemingly. 

"Joker?" 

"Yes, sweetie?" 

"Do you have anything thin and inflexible? Like a coin?" 

"Other than my person, no." 

He scowled. 

He shrugged. 

More tapping on walls. There weren't any visible vents. There had to be a seam somewhere. 

"Ah, yes. The illustrious Dark Knight running his fingers along every square inch of the floor, ladies and gentlemen." 

He focused instead on the walls. 

A white glove beside his. "I have a question for you." 

He thought he felt an imperfection. 

"If I may..." 

"What is it, Joker?" 

"You don't actually think there's a way out of here, do you?" 

Ear to the wall. Or best he could through the cowl, anyway. "There's got to be a code. A way to crack it. Something." 

"One problem: The real question: what if there's not?" 

A cleansing breath. 

"How's it play out if we _are_ within a few hours of dehydration taking us both? You gonna be satisfied with your dried-up corpse posed like a drum solo, my friend?" 

"That's if they find our bodies." 

"We've gotta be somewhere. My dreams are never this boring. And you smell better in them." 

He pulled his cape back over his shoulders. 

The clown, however, took off and bunched up his vest, lying fetal on the floor. 

"You're sleeping. We're in a life-threatening crisis and you're sleeping." 

"Well, I can't dance all Pee-Wee Herman to cheer you on sleep-deprived, can I?" 

"... The tequila one?" 

"Whatever you like," he winked. 

He shook his head. 

It was even more difficult to focus once the snoring started. And with all these lights. 

Lights. Lights coming through the walls. 

No use hesitating. And yet. 

He poked Joker's shoulder. Several taps. A gentle shake. Fullbody convulsions. 

"WHAT!" 

"I need your shoe." 

He rolled over. "Hard pass, Bats." 

"... Please." 

He sighed, untying the laces. "Now I don't know what the punchline for this setup is, but I'm the most afraid of you I've ever been." 

"No, it's- I need the talc." 

He blinked. 

"The whole batcave smelled like lavender last time." 

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." He kicked it off and brandished it, toe forward. The blue rubber chicken-printed socks went unmentioned. 

He then crawled along the walls with one eye open, clown shoe in hand. Then sprinkled, revealing a myriad of bright green lights. "Lasers." 

His footsteps were only half as loud. The left half. 

"If passing through them isn't triggering anything, then-" 

"Oh, but it is." 

He looked up. 

He put one arm up like a Price is Right model. "We're still in here!" 

The sprinkling continued. Two grids, one about two feet from the floor, another about four. Everywhere except... 

"We've got less than two square feet of clearance about... here." He rolled his cape around his arm. "Joker. Joker." 

"WHAT?" 

"You're still intersecting." 

"Both of us? There?" 

He nodded. 

An eyeroll, but he complied. They stood chest to chest, standing on eachother's feet a little. The urge to look anywhere but eachother's faces out of modesty was mutual. 

"Your... your arm is still intersecting." 

He tucked it around Batman's waist. And pulled. "Better?" 

"... It's still not working." 

"Says the man in pointy ears and gloves." 

"I'm doing what I can." 

"Right." He laughed. "You think this thing was designed for two people?" 

"No." 

They stood a moment. 

He felt a chin on his shoulder. There was a loud hiss. Now he was squeezing. "Don't move." 

And it all went dark. Well, darker. As his vision returned, it was odd to see walls with, like. Features. 

A warehouse? To each side was half the featureless white hell. They'd been on a giant restock shelf the whole time. 

"A styrofoam shell around the whole thing blocked the sound and motion. If we trace the power source, we could find who's responsi-" 

"I'll bet it's Bane. AGAIN. I told him if he ran your schedule by mine, I'd set it up myself." 

He blinked. 

Joker looked at the shell. And back. And at the shell. He waved a hand, "I did not CONSENT to this." 

He stared at the wiring. 

"You ever seen that Hypercube movie? Very that." He slipped his shoe on. 

"Where are you going?" 

"Have I done something," he looked over his shoulder, "...illegal?" 

"No." 

He flashed a ginormous smile and turned on his ankle. 

"...Where _are_ you going?" 

"My throat is dry. It's... karaoke night at one of my less frequent watering holes.2 At least I think. If it's still the last day I remember." 

"..." 

He held out his hand. Then walked closer, wiggling his fingers inches from the Bat's face. 

And he took it. Outside was the typical Gotham grime which neither had been more relieved to see. 

"I'm still kind of pissed about my watch. You know, situations like this make you the guy I'm most comfortable around. We should lean into it. You know, the way you lean into **me** every time you do that grappling hook _SHIT_." 

"I don't-" 

"Riiiighht." He pulled the caped crusader's hand into the crook of his arm. "Listen, if you duet Frankie Valli with me, I will buy. Scout's honor." 

"Absolutely not." 

He smiled. "We'll see. You must be bummed about the belt, too." 

"Actually. I have multiple." 

"Oh, shut up!" 

"Embarrassing to admit, it's easier than restocking antivenom tablets every single time I go out." 

"You're a mess." 

"Joker. That's very bold coming from you. Especially with that lipliner application." 

"You're the one lookin', babe." 

The air was the kind of crisp where their breath warmed each other's noses. And the rest of the conversation topics didn't prove memorable. Probably local policy or near-death hypotheticals, the weather and whatnot. But for just a few moments. All was well.

**Author's Note:**

> 1 The Christopher Nolanverse.  
> 2 Has been kicked out of every other bar in Gotham City for straw-in-nose related incidents. And arson.


End file.
